'Yes.' I replied, 'I was curious about that. Why the Window-maker?'

She glared at me coldly.

'The printers made a mistake on the notepaper and it would have cost too much to redo. Don't laugh.'

She hung up a pillowcase.

'I'll contract you out, Miss Next, but I won't try today — which gives you some time to get yourself together and leave town for good. Somewhere where I can't find you. And hide well — I'm very good at what I do.'

She glanced towards the kitchen. I hung a large SO-17 T-shirt on the line.

'He doesn't know, does he?' I said.

'Spike is a fine man,' replied Cindy, just a little slow on the uptake. You're not going to tell him and he's never going to know. Grab the other end of that sheet, will you?'

I took the end of a dry sheet and we folded it together.

'I'm not going anywhere, Cindy,' I told her, 'and I'll protect myself in any way I can.'

We stared at one another for a moment. It seemed like such a waste.

'Retire!'

'Never!'

'Why?'

'Because I like it and I'm good at it — would you like some tea, Thursday?'

Spike had entered the garden carrying the baby.

'So, how are my two favourite ladies?'

'Thursday was helping me with the washing, Spikey,' said Cindy, her hard-as-nails professionalism replaced by a silly sort of girlie ditsiness. 'I'll put the kettle on — two sugars, Thursday?'

'One.'

She skipped into the house.

'What do you think?' asked Spike in a low tone. 'Isn't she just the cutest thing ever?'

He was like a fifteen-year-old in love for the first time.

'She's lovely, Spike, you're a lucky man.'

'This is Betty,' said Spike, waving the tiny arm of the infant with his huge hand. 'One year old. You were right about being honest with Cindy — she didn't mind me doing all that vampire sh— I mean stuff. In fact I think she's kinda proud.'

'You're a lucky man,' I repeated, wondering just how I was going to avoid making him a widower and the gurgling child motherless.

We walked back into the house, where Cindy was busying herself in the kitchen.

'Where have you been?' asked Spike, depositing Betty next to Friday. They looked at one another suspiciously. 'Prison?'

'No. Somewhere weird. Somewhere other.'

'Will you be returning there?' asked Cindy innocently.

'She's only just got back!' exclaimed Spike. 'We don't want to be shot of her quite yet.'

'Shot of her — of course not,' replied Cindy, placing a mug of tea on the table. 'Have a seat. There are Hobnobs in that novelty dodo biscuit tin over there.'

'Thank you. So,' I continued, 'how's the vampire business?'

'So-so. Been quiet recently. Werewolves the same. I dealt with a few zombies in the city centre the other night but Supreme Evil Being containment work has almost completely dried up. There's been a report of a few ghouls, bogeys and phantoms in Winchester but it's not really my area of expertise. There's talk of disbanding the division and then taking me on freelance when they need something done.'

'Is that bad?'

'Not really. I can charge what I want with vampires on the prowl, but in slack times I'd be a bit stuffed — wouldn't want to send Cindy out to work full time, now, would I?'

He laughed and Cindy laughed with him, handing Betty a rusk. She gave it an almighty toothless bite and then looked puzzled when there was no effect. Friday took it away from her and showed how it was done.

'So what are you up to at present?' asked Spike.

'Not much. I just dropped in before I go off up to Goliathopolis — my husband still isn't back.'

'Did you hear about Zvlkx's Revealment?'

'I was there.'

'Then Goliath will want all the forgiveness they can get — you won't find a better time for forcing them to bring him back.'

We chatted for ten minutes or more until it was time for me to leave. I didn't manage to speak to Cindy on her own again, but I had said what I wanted to say — I just hoped she would take notice, but somehow I doubted it.

'If I ever have any freelance jobs to do, will you join me?' asked Spike as he was seeing me out of the door, Friday having eaten nearly all the rusks.

I thought of my overdraft.

'Please.'

'Good,' replied Spike, 'I'll be in touch.'

I drove down to the M4 to Saknussum International, where I had to run to catch the Gravitube to the James Tarbuck Graviport in Liverpool. Friday and I had a brief lunch before hopping on the shuttle to Goliathopolis. Goliath had taken my husband from me, and they could bring him back. And when you have a grievance with a company, you go straight to the top.

14

The Goliath Apologarium™

The Isle of Man had been an independent corporate state within England since it was appropriated for the greater fiscal good in 1963. The surrounding Irish Sea was heavily mined to deter unwanted visitors and the skies above protected by the most technologically advanced anti-aircraft system known to man. It had hospitals and schools, a university, its own fusion reactor and also, leading from Douglas to Kennedy Graviport in New York, the world's only privately run Gravitube. The island was home to almost 200,000 people who did nothing but support, or support the support of, the one enterprise that dominated the small island: the Goliath Corporation.

The old Manx town of Laxey was renamed Goliathopolis and was now the Hong Kong of the British archipelago, a forest of glassy towers striding up the hillside towards Snaefell. The largest of these skyscrapers rose higher even than the mountain peak behind it and could be seen glinting in the sunlight all the way from Blackpool, weather permitting. In this building was housed the inner sanctum of the whole vast multinational, the cream of Goliath's corporate engineers. An employee could spend a lifetime on the island and never even get past the front desk. And it was on the ground floor of this building, right at the heart of the corporation, that I found the Goliath apologarium.

I joined a small queue in front of a modern glass-topped table where two smiling Goliath employees were giving out questionnaires and numbered tickets.

'Hello!' said one of the clerks, a youngish girl with a lopsided smile. 'Welcome to the Goliath Corporation's Apology Emporium. Sorry you had to wait. How can we help you?'

'The Goliath Corporation murdered my husband.'